It Melts My Mother-Heart

Our Sassy goes to bed very early because she has to get up very early and because she risks illness if she doesn't get enough sleep.  She hasn't felt good for the past couple of days, so I fully expected her to be in her bed by the time I got home from work last night.

She was lying down when I first got home.  Landon had his cousins in his bedroom.  I fixed myself a sandwich for dinner and took it into our bedroom so I could get started on my (substantial and formidable) homework assignment.  I kept our door open because I wanted to be available for Landon.

Before long, I heard Ashtyn up and in Landon's room with the others.  It got VERY quiet after a short time, and I realized they were all gone.  After about 45 minutes, there came trooping in a large parade of kids ages 11 to 18, one of them hauling in a new fish tank, others carrying various bags.  They then spent the next two hours setting up a new tank in Landon's room.  The only thing they ever said to me all night was, "Do you care if we give the smaller tank to the Fishes?"

Spencer got home and asked where Landon had gotten the money to do this, and he said, "I didn't do it.  Ashtyn came in and said, 'Do you care if we re-decorate?'  So she bought all of this.  I didn't even ask her, Dad!"  She walked in and said, "This was my idea, Dad."

I got lots of homework done.  Our kids and the Fish kids played together all night.  And I spent time thanking heaven for wonderful children who are friends and who love and sacrifice for one another.

I put away my homework when my eyes were crossing.  That's when Ash asked if I could put her hair in braids for the night.  She went to bed at 10:30 (VERY late for her).

Sometimes I Wish We Had More Children

Being a mother is so fantastic.  I adore our children!  I think we could have done OK raising a couple more.  I was sad when I was told that our family was complete.

But every once in a while someone comes by and says, "I need to get out of here a tiny bit early so I can go to the Blue & Gold Banquet."

Those are the moments when I thank HEAVEN that we are past that.

Did you know we are in our last year of middle school? 

I KNOW, right?!

The Older They Get, The More I Love Them

Amy's post reminded me of several things:

1.  There are eternal days when you are the parent of small children.  These are the days people seem to forget.  These are the days when you are 100% convinced that when people say, "Don't blink," they are completely high.

2.  Having small children is incredibly physically demanding.  You must get them out of their beds, change their diapers, get them dressed (often multiple times each day), bathe them, carry them everywhere, carry a lot of stuff with you everywhere you go, feed them, lift them into and out of cars and various other places, get down on the floor to talk to them at their level, etc., etc.

3.  Sometimes being a parent doesn't seem like the decision was worth it.  Even when you know in the long run it is worth it, there are many times when it doesn't seem like it.

4.  Parents of small children miss the company of adults.  Adults don't head-bang you, throw up on you, poop their pants, pat-pat-pat you to get your attention, throw their food all over the place, or call you "Mama" 400 times (even when you have answered them 400 times).  Usually. 

5.  Having small children can be embarrassing to you.  They might poop all over you just when you are supposed to close the meeting.  They might call that very kind lady "Fat."  They might use a word they weren't supposed to hear you using.  They might sing really loud during the really quiet part of the movie or meeting.  They could burp or pass gas loudly at any moment.  They might pitch a fit in the middle of the store.

Sometimes these things are easy to forget, especially when you've reached a point with your children when they are completely capable of toileting, showering and dressing themselves, not only getting themselves into and out of a car but actually DRIVING themselves places, and holding a reasonable conversation that doesn't include tears or kicking or head-butting. 

Fortunately, life has a way of helping you remember mostly the good stuff:  the sound of a roomful of giggling children; the adorable handprint card they made for Mother's Day; the song they sang all by themselves or with their class; the stupid, funny jokes that made you laugh till your cheeks hurt; the times when you were exactly the person who could make the ouch go away; the moments when they reached for your hand or put their arm around you just because you were there; their testimonies shared, whether publicly or privately; the breakfast you got in bed; the day you woke up because your body was ready instead of waking to the sound of arguing; Christmases all about giving instead of receiving. 

Of course there are a million things that are forgettable.  But don't worry, there are also a million things to remember.

And in the meantime there are some of us who would welcome the chance to hang out for a few hours with naughty, screaming, laughing, adorable, lovely children.  Call if you need me.  Because it really did all go too, too fast.

And yes, I remember. 

Sharing a Memory -- Don't Blink

Nearly 20 years ago we learned that I was pregnant.  Briana had just turned one, and we were thrilled.  Having already had a "normal" pregnancy, we didn't think a thing about telling everyone that another little one was on the way.  But just a couple of weeks after Christmas I miscarried.  In the middle of the night, with my husband out of town on a work assignment, I left our daughter in the care of a sister-in-law while my mother-in-law took me to the hospital and held my hand while I cried through a D&C.

I came home and slept for several hours.  My SIL offered to keep Briana through the day, but I was so grateful for that little girl that I asked her to just bring our baby home.  Bri was still really just a baby herself--only 14 months old, but she brought me an incredible amount of joy and peace.  She was also the PICTURE of normality, because babies don't know when Mommy's world has turned upside down; and normality was exactly what I needed.  So we spent the next days watching Beauty and the Beast (400 times, at least), eating PBJs, and having horsie rides to bed.  Daddy came home, and we moved forward.

A few months later, I was pregnant again.  This time we were more careful about announcing it to the world.  This time I waited a bit before going to the doctor so that it would be a more sure thing to hear a heartbeat. And this time the pregnancy was normal.

Our first baby boy was born just days past the one-year mark of that miscarriage.  He was beautiful and healthy, and he cried all. the. time. for four months.  But oh! how I cherished that little one.  Which is not to say that there weren't times when I wanted to run screaming from the room.  And I remember what it was like to feel like I might never have an adult conversation again.  There were days when people would say, "Don't blink," and I'd think You clearly haven't had a day like I have had or you would know that the best thing you could wish for me today is for this day to END.  I remember the diapers and diapers and diapers.  And diapers.  This is not something you forget, believe me.

Now suddenly it's been 21 years since that beautiful little girl first turned our world upside down, and nearly 19 years since that wonderful baby boy joined our family.  There have been two more beautiful babies since then (stories for another day).  There have been stitches and broken bones and broken hearts, flat tires and late nights and even move-outs.

Last night Spencer, Taylor, Ashtyn, Landon, and I sat at the dining table for a couple of hours and carved jack-o-lanterns.  We didn't have to hide the knives, and everyone (mostly) did their own work.  After I'd done some clean-up I went into our bedroom, where my phone was beeping with a message from Briana (because, remember, she's in Far-Away Logan) which said, "My mission papers went in today!"

I wish you joy.  I wish you normality.  I wish you nicknames coined by the children for their siblings.  I wish you a few stitches and broken bones and flat tires (nothing major, of course).  But let me tell you something:

Don't Blink!